


Marco and Vincent

by hybridempress



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Flirting, Innuendo, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybridempress/pseuds/hybridempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's common for a Nation to have a job outside of their governmental and ceremonial duties, but rarely do those jobs involve forming close connections to people they work with. How can Francis handle it when he realizes he's let himself fall in love with a human work partner who he has never talked to beyond a computer screen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marco and Vincent

It was common for the Personifications to take up a career outside of their duties to their nation. Sure, those duties kept them busy, but politics hardly paid their almost non-existent bills, and did even less to keep boredom at bay. It was hard being the embodiment of a nation, with all of the thoughts, ideas, feelings, and emotions from every person in every part of your country swimming around in your head non-stop, all day every day, even when you were trying to sleep. Sometimes it was hard to be everyone at once. Sometimes it was easier to just be one person.

Countries who were close to each other conversed about their careers every now and then. Most of them opted for something that would let them work in secrecy and seclusion, under a pseudonym, a pen name. It was easier than trying to switch jobs every twenty or thirty years so that no one questioned why they never seemed to age. 

Alfred wrote and illustrated comic books. Arthur wrote historical fiction books. Matthew was a website designer. Gilbert had a blog under a false name. Kiku was an animator. 

There were some people who preferred to hop around from job to job. Antonio was a food critic who “disappeared” and came back with a new name when he had to. Ludwig taught self-defense to women and children. Roderich was a musician who switched to different companies and symphonies every few decades. Ivan was a gardener who had to take on a new name sometimes. 

Francis, though… Francis was an artist. He sketched landscapes, and painted them. He painted people and places and brought characters to life with pencils and pens. He sold art to galleries and did illustrations for books and festivals and anything else you could think of. His specialty was capturing vivid emotions in the faces of people and characters that he drew. 

He worked under the name of Vincent Cochet. It was in the terms and conditions of every transaction and interaction he was a part of; he never met with his clients face-to-face. He was to remain anonymous for as long as his career would last. Vincent Cochet was a name, and an art style, and nothing more.

By some odd coincidence, it happened that one day Francis became a partner of someone who seemed to work under the same parameters that he did. An email was sent to the address that he kept exclusively for Vincent Cochet on a sunny afternoon in June. The subject was a proposition from the editor of an unnamed writer. 

_Mssr. Cochet,_

_I hope this message finds you in good health. My name is Alfonso Bernabe, and I am an editor from the Red House Publishing company. I am approaching you on behalf of one of my writers, who wishes to remain unnamed at this time._

_My writer expressed an interest in working with you. He is enamored with your style and would like for you to work with him as an illustrator for the novel that he is writing. Attached to this email are notes on the plot of the story and the characters in his book so that you can look them over and decide if you are interested or not._

_Should you choose to accept the proposition, my writer will email you with his name and other ways to reach and contact him. After that he will email you every chapter that he finishes and the two of you will be able to discuss what sort of illustrations you will put together for the book. For the most part you will have freedom to do what you want, as my writer does not want to limit your creativity._

_As a final note, my writer does not wish to meet in person or converse over voice calls or video conferences. He wishes to remain completely anonymous and may terminate contact with you once the project is completed. I figured that this would not be a problem for you since you evidently work in much the same way._

_Money’s no object, and you may discuss a price for your work with my writer if you are interested in the project, as well as the percentage that you will receive from possible future sales of the book if publishing is a success._

_Please give it some thought, and get back to me when you can._

_-Alfonso B., Red House Publishing_

Francis was intrigued right off the bat, but after reading the notes that had been sent to him he had made up his mind without a doubt; he was going to work with this writer. His novel was a fantasy story full of action, magic, suspense, romance, fellowship, and everything else that you would expect of a fantastical fairy tale. His characters were whimsical and had so much passion and thought put into them. Francis was in love from the start and only fell more so the more he thought about all of it. 

He could not contain his enthusiasm. After reading the notes he quickly pulled his sketchbook open and began to craft these characters with his pencils, taking care to include every detail that had been written in words as well as constituents that he had crafted himself. A little more than an hour later, he scanned these drawings into his laptop and began to compose an answer to the editor who had contacted him.

_Mr. Alfonso,_

_Thank you for approaching me with this proposition. After careful consideration I have decided that I would love to be a part of this project. Please tell your writer that I think his story is going to be spectacular to work with and that I cannot wait to hear from him._

_Sincerely,  
Vincent Cochet_

_PS: Attached to this email are sketches that I have done of a few of your writer’s characters. Please pass them along to him. I would love it if he would give me some critiques on my portrayals of his characters when he contacts me._

Francis did not receive a response until the next day, and the wait was almost anxiety-inducing. He couldn’t stop thinking about this mysterious writer and his characters. He ended up falling asleep at his desk, sketching those characters again because he couldn’t sleep with those thoughts still in his head. 

He checked his email for Vincent as soon as he woke up, and continued to check it every half hour until he finally saw an email in his inbox. The name of the person who had sent the email was Marco Albani. The subject title was “The Soul Labyrinth”, which was the title of the mysterious writer’s book. Francis knew that this had to be the man he had been so desperate to talk to.

_Dear Mssr. Cochet,_

_My name is Marco Albani. I am the writer that Alfonso approached you about the other day. He forwarded me your response to my proposal as well as the sketches you sent him. I am thrilled to be working with you on this project._

_You mentioned wanting critique on the sketches that you sent me. The problem is that I have none. Your portrayal of my characters is more than I could have asked for. Thank you for sharing those drawings with me._

_I know Alfonso already told you that, like you, I wish to remain largely anonymous during our partnership. That being said we will be speaking primarily through email, but if you want a quicker way to reach me I can instant message with you through Skype or Discord. I can make a server for us on Discord, or my Skype username is marco.aalbanii_

_You can name your price. I’ve never worked with an illustrator before so I’m not entirely sure what would be appropriate. As Alfonso said, money’s no object._

_Please get back to me as soon as you can._

_-Marco_

Francis wasted no time in writing his reply. He didn’t bother to send Marco the sketches that he had done last night. They were just doodles, after all, and he wanted to get started on the real project as soon as possible.

_Marco,_

_I’m glad that you’ve found my portrayal of your characters to go beyond expectations. I fell in love with your characters from the moment I read your notes and I am ecstatic to be working on this project with you. Thank you so much for having Alfonso approach me._

_I want to say that Skype is the best option for IMing. I feel like an old man; I’ve never heard of Discord before. Skype I can figure out easily enough, though. I’ll send you a request soon._

_As far as the price goes, why don’t you tell me how big you want the project to be? What kind of illustrations do you want me to do? I have a good idea in my head of what I’ll charge but the price will change depending on how much work I’m set to do, of course._

_Once again, thank you for letting me be a part of this._

_Sincerely yours,  
Vincent_

Francis had never had to IM with a client before. He wasn’t sure that he would need to IM with Marco, either, but it was always a good idea to keep his options for communications open. That being said, Francis had never created a separate Skype account for Vincent Cochet. That was something he would have to do now. The sooner he could get a request to Marco, the better.

Francis and Marco emailed each other back and forth a few more times, eventually settling out a price for Francis to work with and a date by which he should have the first chapter of Marco’s book in his hands. The replies started to come in so fast that they ended up moving over to Skype much more quickly than Francis had expected. Not that he minded, though. At least he was getting work done. 

The first chapter was estimated to be finished in three weeks. Once again the wait seemed almost unbearable, but Francis understood that writing took time, just as art did. In the meantime, Francis had other duties to worry about, and other ways to keep himself occupied. 

\---

“Well, aren’t you looking as cheerful as ever, wine bastard?” 

Francis sighed heavily, hearing the scoffing tone of Lovino’s voice coming from behind him while he sat at the meeting table. Normally Lovino’s antagonistic remarks would be welcomed with witty comebacks and cocky smirks. Bantering with Lovino was a highlight of Francis’ day, usually. 

However, today Francis was far more on edge than usual. His bad attitude boiled down to having artist’s block right when Marco had sent him the first chapter of the book. There was nothing more infuriating than not having the motivation when you have the energy.

Still, he would never pass up the chance to tease Lovino. Maybe it would make him feel better. At the very least it would help him blow some steam.

“And I see you’re just as petty as ever, Lovino,” he said, humming faintly and sitting up straighter in his chair. 

Lovino rolled his eyes. “The meeting hasn’t even started yet and you’ve already got a stick up your ass? Must be a personal record,” he said.

Francis turned and looked at Lovino with a deadpan expression. “Why are you here again, exactly?” he inquired.

Lovino shrugged and pulled out the chair beside Francis’, sitting down in it and propping his elbows up on the table. “Who else am I gonna bother when Germany is ignoring me and Tonio isn’t even here yet?” he asked.

“Well, I suppose it would be hard to pay attention to _you_ while your brother is flaunting his ass around,” Francis mused.

Lovino’s face flushed and he looked away from Francis. “Oh, fuck off,” he hissed.

Francis pursed his lips, wondering if he had gone a little too far with that one. “I’m sorry, Lovi. I was only trying to tease,” he said.

“Don’t fucking apologize, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything you have to say,” Lovino growled. “And don’t call me ‘Lovi’. Piece of shit.” He said the last part under his breath.

Francis rolled his eyes again. “Whatever you say, Mister Vargas.”

\---

It was almost midnight now, and Francis still hadn’t even been able to make a single sketch for the first chapter of Marco’s book. As an artist, of course he knew that art took time and work and that it was okay if it took a little while for him to produce what he needed to, but it was different now that he was sort of working _with_ someone instead of _for_ them. At the very least, he felt as though he should let Marco know what was going on.

He turned to his laptop and opened up skype, but logged out of his personal account. He logged into the account that he had made for Vincent. He opened up the chat that he had with Marco and typed up a message to him.

**[Vincent]: Hey, I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to say anything to you. I’ve had a terribly busy day today. I just wanted to let you know, I read the chapter that you sent me and I hope that I’ll be able to work on the illustrations soon. I’m having a bit of artist’s block lately, unfortunately, but I’m sure it will clear up soon. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve started on the work.**

Francis didn’t expect a reply from Marco tonight. It was late, and Marco was probably already asleep. His Skype profile said that he was offline, anyways. 

However, Francis was surprised when he heard the _whop_ of a Skype notification coming from his laptop. He checked to see that Marco had indeed replied to him, despite how late the hour was. Francis found himself smiling faintly as he read Marco’s reply.

**[Marco]: Don’t worry about it, Vin :) If artist’s block is anything like writer’s block then believe me, I know what you are going through. Take your time, it won’t stop me from writing. It’ll be a while until I have another chapter for you, anyways.**

**[Vincent]: Vin? That’s new, no one has ever called me that before. I like it. Can I call you Marc, then?**

**[Vincent]: And thank you for understanding. Blocks are the spawn of the devil, I swear. But like I said, I will let you know when I do begin work on the pieces.**

**[Marco]: Haha, sure, you can call me Marc. It’s nice. And no problem. Can’t wait to see the work. Good luck getting over your block! Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, alright?**

**[Vincent]: Alright, I will. Thank you once again, Marc :)**

**[Marco]: No problem, Vin :)**

\---

“Heyy, Francis, you’ll go out to lunch with me and Feliciano, right?”

Francis looked up from the notes that he had written on this month’s meeting to see Antonio and Feliciano standing on either side of his chair, smiling at him hopefully. Francis chuckled softly, gathering up his papers and stacking them together neatly. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up, offering faint smiles to the both of them.

“Sure, why not?” he said.

Antonio’s eyes lit up in delight. “Fantastic!” he exclaimed.

Feliciano grinned for a moment, but then turned around to look behind him with a sad look on his face. Francis noticed that Lovino was hanging back a little ways away from Feliciano, with his arms folded and his foot tapping against the floor impatiently. Feliciano sighed.

“Lovi is being a big party pooper. He won’t come out to lunch with us even when he has nothing better to do,” he whined.

Lovino’s head snapped towards Feliciano, and he glared at his brother. “How would you know if I’ve got anything better to do or not? I’m a writer. I’ve always got something better to do,” he grumbled.

Feliciano crossed his arms and glared back at Lovino. “Come on, brother! You haven’t done anything fun with us in ages! Your computer will still be at the hotel when we get back. Why can’t you take a break for just a few hours? You’ve been working so hard! Come on, you deserve a break!” he insisted.

“No, I have the motivation _now,_ Feli! Who knows if it will still be there in an hour or two? I’ve got to get back as soon as I can so that I can get as much work done as I can!” Lovino protested.

“Well, why don’t you just write on your phone or something? Or gather up some of these loose note pages and take them with you? If you type on your phone you can email it to yourself and paste it into your file and if you write it down on paper you can type it up on the computer later and make any changes that you feel you need to,” Francis suggested, pushing his chair back into the table. 

Lovino averted his gaze. “Tch, then what would be the point of me being out with you guys if all I’m doing is keeping my nose in my phone?” he asked.

“It would mean that you get to spend some time with us, regardless of what you’re doing. Come on, you don’t have to talk to us if you don’t want to. Just come get something to eat with us. Please?” Francis asked. 

Lovino was quiet for a while, but eventually he sighed in defeat. “Fine, okay. Whatever. I’ll come with you to get some stupid lunch,” he said. 

Antonio and Feliciano both gasped in delight. “Alright!” Antonio exclaimed.

Feliciano turned and smiled at Francis. “I can’t believe you convinced Lovi to come with us! You must have the voice of God, or something!” he said in bewilderment.

Francis laughed softly. “No, I’ve just got the voice of reason. That’s all.”

\---

It was almost funny how quickly in the coming months that hearing the _whop_ of a Skype notification seemed ten times more exciting to Francis now than it ever had before. These days he was almost constantly logged in to Vincent’s account, only keeping his personal account logged in on his cell phone. Within just a few weeks Francis and Marco were in constant contact with each other every day, whether they were talking about things that were work-related or not. 

Francis found a level of comfort around Marco that he had not had with anyone else in a long time. Marco was no longer just his employer or his colleague, but his friend, and someone he could count on to make him feel better on rough days. Helping each other through blocks turned into jokes which turned into talking about other things which turned into building a friendship that thrived beyond the worlds of their arts. 

**[Marco]: Shit, man, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had**

**[Vincent]: Do I need to make myself a pot of tea or send you some music to calm you down?**

**[Marco]: Both, maybe? I dunno. It was wild, let me tell you…**

***

**[Vincent]: Listen, my friend, Adena is mine I don’t care what that fuckboy Bruno has to say about it**

**[Marco]: Bruno isn’t a fuckboy he _learns_ from his mistakes and becomes a better person with Adena’s help**

**[Vincent]: That doesn’t mean he isn’t a fuckboy now. Besides, why should that sweet little girl have to clean up all of his messes? Honestly Marc I thought you were above copying every straight white romance ever written**

**[Marco]: Adena isn’t even white you fuckass you made that decision when you started drawing her. And who said I was going to make Bruno and Adena get together anyways jesus christ**

**[Vincent]: well that’s what you made it sound like you know**

**[Marco]: well um actually after Adena picks up Bruno’s shitty pieces she falls in love with a fairy and news flash: fairies have no gender and also this particular fairy just happens to be pretty feminine**

**[Marco]: so**

**[Marco]: gay**

**[Vincent]: like me**

**[Marco]: same**

**[Vincent]: good Lord above**

***

**[Marco]: How do you politely tell your roommate to fuck off**

**[Vincent]: I’d say tell him to fuck off in a British accent but the Brits are not polite at all, trust me**

**[Vincent]: go for a Canadian accent instead**

**[Marco]: Jesus Christ I can’t even do an American accent how the fuck am I supposed to do a Canadian accent**

**[Vincent]: I don’t know what else to tell you**

It was good to have someone like Marco around. It was good to have someone to joke with. A clean slate who didn’t spend time with his other friends. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend to be arrogant around. Someone that he didn’t have a reputation to uphold with. Whenever Francis was around Marco, he swore that just for a little while, he felt like he was human. That feeling was something that he would never allow himself to give up. 

\---

In the midst of the meeting, Francis heard the soft snickering and chuckling of Lovino beside him. It was just quiet enough so that no one else seemed to hear it, and certainly not Ludwig, who was currently in a heated debate with Arthur; the subject matter of which was nothing of interest to anyone else in the room, evidently. Francis couldn’t keep himself from glancing at Lovino to see what on Earth he could be laughing at, only to see that he had his phone unlocked under the table and was reading something on it.

“What’re you laughing about?” Francis whispered, not letting himself look at Lovino’s phone screen, but leaning a little closer to the other man.

Lovino quickly put his phone to sleep and wedged it upright between his legs. He folded his hands in his lap and glared at Francis. “Your ugly face,” he grumbled.

Francis smirked faintly. “You were looking at pictures of me?” he asked.

Lovino’s face flushed. “No, shut up. I was reading something a friend sent me,” he said. 

Francis chuckled softly. “Sure, whatever you say, Lovi,” he purred.

“How many times do I gotta tell you not to call me Lovi before you’ll fucking listen?” Lovino hissed. 

Francis shrugged, humming. “How many times will I have to tell you to be nice before you’ll listen?” he asked. 

Lovino rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Francis grinned. “I love you, you know,” he said.

“Oh, piss off.” 

\---

It had been almost a year since Francis had started working with Marco. The book had been written. Francis had done the illustrations that he had been paid for. The book was being edited and would hopefully be published soon. Francis and Marco were already talking about working on another project together.

A second project was not the only thing that was developing between them now, though, and Francis wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. What he did know was that their relationship would be changing very fast. 

The month prior to Valentine’s Day was when the flirting had begun. As decorations and advertisements started to pop up here and there, Francis read messages from Marco complaining to him about how annoying it was, and Francis found himself doing anything and everything to argue that it was cute. This ended with Francis sending Marco cheesy Valentine’s Day cards he found on the internet, and Marco giving in and doing the same to Francis. 

Jokingly they decided to be each other’s Valentines, and continued to spend the day flirting with each other. The flirting didn’t stop after Valentine’s Day though. Or after February had ended. Or after Marco had sent his book and Francis’ illustrations to Alfonso to be edited and published. The worst part of it all was that, despite the vagueness of their relationship, Francis felt himself falling in love with Marco, and that was something that he would never be prepared for.   
**[Vincent]: Oh come on, don’t you at least think that all of those cheesy e-cards are funny?**

**[Marco]: No. Those were ruined for me when an American friend of mine started sending me a picture of his president with the caption “I don’t want to be Obama self” every year**

**[Marco]: what the fuck does that even mean**

**[Vincent]: it means he doesn’t want to be Oba himself, obviously**

**[Vincent]: frankly, neither do I**

**[Marco]: fuck you**

**[Vincent]: I’m sorry but you will have to wait in line for that, my dear**

**[Marco]: DOUBLE FUCK YOU**

**[Vincent]: ;)**

***

**[Vincent]: It’s a funny sensation when your life is messier than your hair**

**[Marco]: that’s not even a valid comparison what the fuck**

**[Vincent]: Why not?**

**[Marco]: because your hair isn’t even messy**

**[Vincent]: How would you know? You’ve never seen my hair**

**[Marco]: yeah but you always boast about how nice your hair looks so I would assume that you are lying to me now about it being messy**

**[Marco]: besides you know they say that an artist looks like his artwork and if that’s the case then you must be a fucking god or something**

***

**[Marco]: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBtTX-CXfcU**

**[Marco]: gee no wonder I’ve never found love I never fucking go outside**

**[Vincent]: Why go outside when you can stay in with me? ;)**

**[Marco]: How scandalous, Mssr. Cochet**

***

**[Marco]: I realized today that I feel the same way about you that I feel about cookie dough**

**[Marco]: I’m always craving you but there’s never enough of you**

**[Vincent]: Jesus**

The more time passed the more Francis found himself realizing that Marco must be feeling the same way as he did. Once upon a time Francis would have found that to be a good thing, but he was not quite so naive anymore. It was hard enough to deal with falling in love with another nation, but a human? Francis would never let himself fall into that trap again. 

The problem was that Francis didn’t know how to stop this. How awkward would it make their relationship if Francis suddenly stopped reciprocating when Marco flirted with him? Or if he told Marco that he didn’t want to flirt anymore? Would their relationship go back to being strictly business? Would their conversations with one another be forced and awkward? Francis didn’t want to love Marco, but he also didn’t want to lose Marco, or let him go. 

Still, no matter how hard he tried to think of other options, his mind always drifted back to the same thing. This relationship, romantic or not, could not last forever. One day Marco was going to die. One day Marco was going to lose contact with Francis, for some reason or another. One day Marco was going to be just another ache in Francis’ chest that he would have to bear forever because of how foolish he was. That much was inevitable. How could two people maintain a relationship if they could never even see each other’s faces, or hear each other’s voices?

But there was still a decision to make. There was still a path to choose. Francis went to war against himself, trying to decide if he would let himself play the part of the fool again, or if he would let Marco go before the damage became irreversible. 

\---

Francis’ heart was heavier today than normal. He had made the decision to cut ties entirely with Marco. He knew it was for the best, for both of them, but that didn’t make the decision hurt any less. 

He had been trying to psych himself up for the message all day, but it was hard when he was also trying to focus on what was being said in the meeting. He was so overwhelmed that he felt like his head was going to explode. He wished that he would have just done it the night before, or a week ago, or right when he realized how his feelings were changing. 

He was slow to leave when the meeting ended. He waited until everyone else had gotten up before he even pushed his chair out, and another few seconds before he started walking. He was dreading the thought of going back to his hotel room at this point. He was so anxious he could hardly stand it. 

Before he had reached the door h felt a hand grab his shoulder gently, and then pull away quickly, as if whoever had touched him had been shocked by his skin. He turned around to see Lovino standing behind him, and raised an eyebrow. Lovino’s eyes were swimming with a kind of vulnerable uncertainty that Francis had never seen in him before.

“Francis, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.

Francis nodded subtly. Marco could wait. Francis was going to make Lovino the priority right now.

“Well sure you can, Lovino… Of course, what’s going on?” 

Lovino ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps back, beckoning for Francis to follow him back to the table in the room. Once he was close enough he pushed himself up onto the table, sitting on it as though it were a bench. Francis pulled out a chair and sat down in it, looking up at Lovino intently. 

Lovino folded his arms over his chest and glared at Francis. “First things first, don’t fucking tell anybody I was talking to you okay? I would’ve gone to Antonio but I know he would have blabbed about it to everybody. This stays between you and me, okay?” he demanded. 

Francis nodded again, more deliberately this time. “Yes, of course. I won’t say a word to anyone,” he promised. 

Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen… I need some help, okay?” he asked.

“Of course. What’s wrong, Lovino?” Francis asked.

Lovino dragged his hand down his face before folding both of his hands in his lap and looking at Francis. “I don’t know what to do, Francis. I know somebody… Somebody that I care a lot about. I think… I think I might love him. But I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if he feels the same way and even if he does I don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t think we could last very long. I don’t want to get hurt,” he said.

Francis was caught off guard. It was so shocking to him that Lovino seemed to be in the same situation as him. Or at least, something similar. What a peculiar coincidence.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. When he closed his mouth he couldn't stop his lips from curling into a sad sort of grin. He closed his eyes, allowing a single laugh to escape his mouth. Lovino glared at him intensely.

“What the fuck is so funny, pal!?” he demanded.

Francis shook his head, opening his eyes and looking at Lovino again. “Nothing. I’m just such a hypocrite, that’s all,” he said.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean…?”

Francis waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing, it’s nothing…” he said, and stood up from his chair.

He stepped closer to Lovino and grabbed both of Lovino’s shoulders gently. He smiled a little more broadly as Lovino stared at him in bewilderment. “Lovi… You are young and you are full of life. There are so many things that you haven't experienced yet because you have been holding yourself back for so long. If this is love, then embrace it. Embrace your feelings, all of this overpowering fear and excitement and wonder. Never forget what it feels like to be in love. Never forget how overwhelming it is. Don’t hold yourself back anymore. Take a chance! Even if it doesn’t last forever it will be worth it,” he said.

Lovino averted his gaze. Lovino tried to hide it, but Francis thought he could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of Lovino’s mouth. “I should have known you’d say some cheesy bullshit like that,” Lovino said.

“Hey, you said you wanted my help, so I gave it to you. Now are you going to take my advice or not?” Francis asked, trying not to laugh.

Lovino was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. After a while, he looked up at Francis and nodded intently. “Yeah, I think I am going to take it. Thank you,” he said. 

Francis smiled softly at Lovino. “Of course, Lovi. You know I’m always here for you, no matter what,” he said. 

Lovino rolled his eyes and gently slid Francis’ hands off of his shoulders, pushing Francis away from him so that he could hop off of the table. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You too, and all that shit,” he said, waving his hand as he walked away from the table. 

He turned around to look at Francis for a moment. “Thanks again, Francis. I’ll see you around, yeah?” he asked.

Francis nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, I’ll see you around,” he said.

Lovino waved to Francis before dashing out of the room. Francis waved back at him, holding the smile until Lovino was gone. He sighed heavily and buried his face in his face in his hands. He felt the pain of his hypocrisy in his gut, as if it were a knife being slowly twisted and pushed deeper inside, knowing that he was going home to do the exact opposite of what he had told Lovino to.

\--- 

**[Marco]: Hey, Vin, are you around?**

The message had appeared in the chat before Francis’ fingers even had a chance to brush the keyboard. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at the screen. He didn't reply, partly because he was frightened, but partly because he wanted to see if Marco would say anything else. It was a few minutes before another message came up on the screen.

**[Marco]: Just message me when you can, okay? I’ve got something I want to talk to you about but It’d go over better if you were here, I guess.**

Even with shaking fingers, Francis didn’t hesitate to type out his response after that.

**[Vincent]: Let’s end this.**

After sending the message Francis closed the laptop and did not wait for a response.

\---

It had been a month since the “breakup” with Marco. Francis had logged into Vincent’s Skype account a few times since then, only to find that Marco never replied to the message that Francis had sent. Part of him was hurt that Marco hadn’t tried to fight for him, or at least ask what was going on, but he knew that in the end it was for the best. Mostly he just felt bad for ending things so abruptly that Marco didn’t even have anything to say.

Everything seemed so melancholic to Francis now. It felt like not even a day had passed since he’d sent that final message and everything still hurt like hell. He hadn’t been able to draw at all since he had sent that message and his political duties were suffering as well. He had barely managed to drag himself out of bed to come to this meeting today, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to pay attention to anything that happened. 

It was even worse having to see Lovino, though. He seemed just as melancholic as Francis was. A quick chat with Antonio before the meeting began told Francis that Lovino had been rejected by the person he’d fallen in love with and hadn’t been able to get over it yet. Once again Francis felt that sting of hypocrisy twisting his innards around and he wished that he’d told Lovino not to chase a star that he knew from the beginning was too far. 

As Ludwig’s voice droned on and on Francis found that he couldn’t make out a single word that was being said. He played with the pen in his hand, pressing the tip of it lightly against the note paper on the table, making little spots of ink that were barely visible on the page. He found himself trying to draw again, trying to sketch Marco’s characters, but he hated every feature that he created and ended up scribbling over it all, unable to finish what he had started.

He could feel Lovino’s eyes on him from time to time. He never bothered to look up and meet Lovino’s gaze. He knew it would only make him feel guiltier for everything. There wasn’t a doubt in Francis’ mind that Lovino was glaring at him, trying to bore a hole into his soul with that stare. 

The meeting seemed to drag on for hours longer than it should have. By the time everyone finally started to get up and leave Francis felt so drained that he didn’t have the energy to move. He felt like he was going to fall asleep here, and he also felt like he never really wanted to wake up. 

The meeting hall became quiet after everyone else had left. Francis savored the silence, but found that he felt worse knowing that he was the only person still left in the room. He almost ignored it when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but figured it would be bad to keep someone waiting or make them worry if it was important. 

He woke his phone up and could see that there was a message from Lovino. When he saw the name he was afraid to look at the message below it, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting. He gasped and almost dropped his phone when he saw what Lovino had texted him. 

**[Lovino]: Vincent?**

Francis looked up from his phone and pushed his chair away from the table. He stood up and turned around, only to see Lovino standing in the doorway of the meeting hall. He looked like he was about to cry. 

Francis was so bewildered. There was no way Lovino could have known that name. Francis had never mentioned it to anyone. The only way Lovino could have possibly figured it out would have been… 

“Marco…?”

The name passed through Francis’ lips before he even realized what he was saying. He covered his mouth, inhaling sharply. There was no way that it could be possible, and yet, it was the only thing that made sense.

Everything seemed to fit together now. The reason why Marco wanted to remain as anonymous as Francis did. The reason that Lovino had come to ask him for help with the same problem that Francis had been facing himself. The reason why Lovino’s romance had ended in the same catastrophic way. There was no other explanation.

“You bastard!” Lovino choked out. “Did you know it was me?” He gripped his cell phone tightly as his hands shook.

Francis shook his head, walking closer to Lovino. “Of course I didn’t, how could I have known? How did you figure out who _I_ was?” he asked.

“I-I saw you sketching during the meeting. I recognized the characters and the style,” Lovino whispered. 

Francis stopped walking when he was a few feet in front of Lovino. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing softly, and smiling a little sadly. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said.

Lovino glared at Francis. “Dammit, Francis! Why the hell would you tell me to take a chance when you weren’t willing to?” he demanded.

“How could I have known that I was the one you’d fallen in love with? I didn’t know who you were talking about. I assumed you would have been smarter than to spend enough time with a human to fall in love with them,” Francis said.

Lovino averted his gaze. “Then I guess we’re both idiots, aren’t we?” he mumbled.

Francis’ expression softened. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

Lovino slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, still not making eye contact. “So what now? I’m assuming that even though you know the truth you don’t want to give it another shot, right?” he asked.

Francis took a few more steps forward and cupped Lovino’s face in his hands. “I didn’t say that,” he whispered.

Lovino stiffened when Francis touched him. His breath caught in his throat. Finally, he turned his gaze back to Francis’ face and stared him in the eye. 

“Then what are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying that I’m just as in love with you as I was with Marco, and why shouldn’t we take a chance now that we know the truth? What have we got to lose?” Francis asked.

Lovino couldn’t hold back anymore. He braced his hands against Francis’ chest and buried his face between them. He gripped the fabric of Francis’ shirt tightly with both hands and started crying into Francis’ chest. Francis could feel Lovino’s entire body shaking.

Francis quickly wrapped his arms around Lovino, cupping the back of Lovino’s head and running his fingers through Lovino’s hair gently. He kissed Lovino’s head gently and rested his chin on top of it. He held Lovino in silence until Lovino had finally stopped crying.

“So what do you say, Lovino? Do you love me too?” he asked softly.

Lovino pulled away from Francis’ chest, still holding on to his shirt, and glared up at him. “Of course I do, you bastard. Did you think I was crying for no damn reason?” he demanded.

“No, of course not. I-”

Before Francis could finish what he was saying, Lovino grabbed the lapels of Francis’ shirt and pulled him down for a deep, angry kiss. Francis was surprised, but nevertheless he wrapped his arms around Lovino’s waist and kissed him back, holding him close. After a while, Lovino pulled away and glared at Francis again.

“Of course I love you, bastard. Why would I be here if I didn’t?”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic #3 for tumblr's aph france week! This is also based on a headcanon that someone sent me on tumblr a long time ago. I've been mulling over ideas in my head for a while and finally got around to writing this since aph france week was coming up,,, in the original headcanon that I was sent, the roles of Francis and Lovino were switched. Lovino was the artist and Francis was the one who wrote novels. However, it has always been my own personal headcanon that Francis isn't fond of writing and feels like he's not good at it because words restrict him and there are so many feelings that he could never ever learn to convey accurately through writing. He's definitely an "actions speak louder than words" kind of person, so I switched the roles for this fic. This is the first time I've written a framano fic but god I love this pairing. I couldn't have asked for a better idea to use to write my first fic for this pairing. God bless the magical headcanon anon.


End file.
